Shut Up You Tiresome Cunts

This piece is written by request. Someone on a forum I visit posted an article from Forbes, yet another of the “Where Have All the Good Men Gone” hamster-trots. A fellow poster replied with ‘Where are all the "shut up you tiresome cunt" articles?’. I said I’d write one. I’m such a charitable person. Whether this has the quality of my usual work is open for debate, but it’s not a debate I’ll be taking part in.

The article we were commenting on is completely interchangeable with, well, pretty much EVERY one of the millions of other articles in the same vein. One of these ‘professional’ women was bemoaning her inability to find a PERFECT man, and blaming the male population. Like it’s somehow our fault that her list of requirements eliminates roughly 99.998% of us from her prospective dating pool, and the remaining .002% want nothing to do with her. It’s OUR fault that she has such high expectations. After all, how hard should it be for a 30 something career woman who’s been riding the cock carousel for 15 years to find a man with a bachelor’s degree AND a white collar job AND heterosexual AND unmarried AND amazing AND in perfect shape AND AND AND….ad infinitum, ad nauseum. Et cetera.

I’m going to use myself as an example here. Not because I’m some egomaniacal twit, but because I can speak about myself in a way that I can’t speak of anyone else, simply by virtue of the fact that I have firsthand knowledge of me. The following is fact, observation, and theory. It is NOT me bragging on myself. First off, I don’t do that, because I don’t need to, and secondly, I’m not trying to impress anyone, since I figure the audience for this piece will be almost exclusively male. And I’m completely heterosexual.

I’m college educated, and not some soft-headed junk like psychology, either. Think engineering. I’m an attractive guy; I know this. I’ve gotten compliments, and been hit on, by women ranging in age from mid-teens to mid-50’s. It’s flattering, and sometimes disappointing. It really sucks to have some very attractive girl flirting with you and hitting on you, then discover she’s 17. I’m intelligent, funny, good conversationalist, and apparently I’m about the perfect blend of ‘alpha male’ and…something else. I’m not exactly sure what that ‘something else’ is, though.

 I recently went out with a girl 15 years younger than me, and whereas I thought the night was going nowhere (and that didn’t bother me a bit), when I was going to drop her off SHE initiated a kiss with me, then proceeded to grab my junk and get very pretty enthusiastic about our pawing each other. Long story short, I got another first-date bang. She asked me a couple days later if I usually did that, and I didn’t think so. But I did the math, and I’m sitting at an almost 80% first-date-bang rate. Women keep telling me they feel ‘safe’ or ‘comfortable’ with me (this one was another that said that she felt comfortable with me). I don’t know what the hell that means, other than they are ready and eager to have sex with me after only knowing me for a few hours, but you know what? I’ll take it.

Oh, and according to more than a couple of the women I’ve been with, I’m quite skilled and sized nicely. These were comments I received without solicitation, by the way. I don’t ask. I don’t need to, my ego doesn’t require stroking. Hell, even my ex-wife told me I was a lot better in bed than the guy she was banging on the side (she told me this after our divorce was final. I just wanted to make that clear.) I’ve gotten rather adept at making women have muscle spasms/shake from their uterus all the way down their legs. Maybe not the first time we have sex, and maybe not EVERY time we have sex, but more than they’re used to. My last girlfriend, who was 23 at the time, had never experienced that before. You’re welcome.

I also have this unique quality that I consider a bit of a curse. I first noticed it when I was 18 and ‘seeing’ (read: hanging out with and banging…yet another first “date” bang) the older sister of this guy who was friends with my neighbor and now-former friend. That quality is, women tend to fall for me hard and fast. I don’t know why, but I keep seeing the same thing, time and again. First-date-bang (or just oral), some time spent together for a week or two, and they’re completely in love with me. Well, as close to love as women are capable of getting, anyway.

I’m not the most skilled or knowledgeable guy when it comes to handyman type stuff, but I get the job done. Another thing my ex used to comment on was my ability to figure things out. I may start out with a bunch of pipes, some tools, and no knowledge whatsoever, but by the end of the day I’d have finished fixing whatever plumbing problem I was attempting to tackle. Same thing with repairs to my truck or house, car stereo equipment, etc. It was one of the things she loved/hated about me (like all women, she was more than a little jealous of my ability to GET THINGS DONE).

I generally treat people with at least some measure of respect, until they’ve either earned more or squandered what they had initially. I may not exactly be ‘friendly’ to random strangers, but I’m cordial and polite.

I’ve also been told, by numerous people and on more than one occasion, that I’m quite intimidating. Especially when people know my background (I was a Marine rifleman). Apparently I give off this vibe that I’m not going to take any shit, and will forcibly remove the throat of anyone who chooses to give me any. If I do, it’s not on purpose. No, I don’t want to take any shit, and I don’t want to give any shit. I’m not in the shit business. But I don’t actively cultivate this vibe. Sometimes my *friends* will do so for me, usually when we’re out bar-crawling and someone they don’t want to put up with is interrupting our night out. But I myself don’t go looking for trouble.

I work for a living, rather than living off The System or engaging in crime. When I got out of the military, the job service wouldn’t help me find a job unless I signed up for unemployment. Even though I told them I didn’t WANT unemployment, I wanted a job, they weren’t moved. I got unemployment for 3 weeks, then I went to a temp agency and took a $9 an hour job driving a forklift.

Since then I’ve had some jobs where I made pretty decent, or even really good, pay, as well as various benefits. Including the one I’m about to start. By my figuring, with an average amount of overtime I should be able to make about $50-$55K a year, maybe more if I can get a position as a welder, or if I move from the maintenance crew to a yard crew or something.

My car isn’t T.H.E. greatest vehicle on the road (it’s a 5 year old Civic), but it still runs great, it’s clean inside, and it looks good aside from a couple places that my ex damaged it when she had it.

So let’s sum that all up: attractive, educated, employed, sexually skilled, good with women, ‘bad boy’ alpha vibe, and with enough cash to be able to go places and do things.

Even though I’d be an excellent choice for the women writing the articles I was talking about above as far as dating material goes, they won’t ever even consider me.

Why not? Yeah, I know, the typical audience for this piece already knows the answer to that. But let me finish my writing, ok? Thanks.

First off, and this is a biggie, my college degree is only an Associate’s. Ooooooh, that’s an automatic deal-breaker right there. “Must have at least a Bachelor’s degree”. I was working on one when my now-ex wife destroyed that goal, like so many others. In a way, though, I’m glad she did. You see….

I’m no white-collar type. I’ve had a job where I sat on my ass in an office; it sucked. The hardest part was trying to stay awake. Next hardest was finding something to do to make the time pass. This is part of why I do not currently have, nor do I expect I ever WILL have, a bachelor’s degree. I just can’t sit in an office and move numbers or shuffle papers all day. I prefer to operate a machine, or better yet, weld. Fixing things is a good choice, too.

I’m attractive, but not in the way these ‘professional’ types want. What that means, I don’t know exactly. Hell, I doubt they know. Maybe I have too many tattoos? Maybe I look TOO much like someone who’s liable to rip a throat out, and not enough like some candyass investment banker (apologies to any investment bankers reading this). Maybe it’s because I shave my head, rather than be vain and attempt to fight Nature and genetics who conspired to give me a very prominent widow’s peak at 16, and thinning hair up top at 20. Maybe it’s because I prefer to wear jeans or cutoff military camo pants and a t-shirt, or Dickies work pants and a button-up work shirt, over looking like the guys from “A Night at the Roxbury”. Military-type boots or Chuck Taylor’s are on my feet, not Italian loafers or something like that. My leather footwear comes from cows, not lambs, stingrays, or anything else, and can be used to kick down a door, or kick in a skull.

I don’t drive a BMW. I could afford one, if I really wanted it, but it just doesn’t seem like a good use of money. For what I’d pay for a BMW, I can buy a Civic, a nice computer, a big TV, a Sony Playtsation 3 (or PS4, when it hits shelves), some games, another couple of rifles, and a prostitute that will not only look better than these career women, she’ll be younger, more pleasant to be around, and quite likely will have had fewer sexual partners, too. This seems like a much better use of my funds than a fancy car.

Yes, I fail to meet the unrealistically high expectations of these women who are crying about their inability to find a man who’s “dateworthy”.

And that makes me happy. Very, very happy.

I, like so many other men, want nothing to do with these ‘professional’ women. They’ve been riding the cock carousel for 15 years; they’re used up. They’ve been banging every ganger, scumbag, biker, and criminal they could get into a stall in the bathroom of the club or bar. If they don’t have a little thuglet or two, it’s only by some miracle or the intervention of a doctor with a wet/dry vac, a coathanger, and a jar of salt.

Their attitudes are absolutely horrendous. Entitlement princesses one and all. They’re arrogant in the extreme, condescending, narcissistic, and without anything resembling morals or scruples. Even more so than other women (remember, AWALT!), they are soulless monsters just looking for a victim. I would rather date a 22 year old who’s a 5 or 6 in appearance, with a nice personality and a low-paying job, than one of these 30+ year old women who’s an 8 or a 9.

Now they’ve hit the wall, and they’re looking for a sucker/walking ATM to ‘have a future with’ (read: marry, cheat on, and then clean out in the divorce).

Well girls, like Credence Clearwater said, and The Dropkick Murphys later repeated, “That ain’t me”.

Even though the answers to their questions are right in front of them, they keep up with these mindless “Where Have All The Good Men Gone?” articles, trying to shame men into doing what cupcake wants.

Damn, are we sick of hearing it.

You done fucked up. Time to examine yourself, reflect on the choices you’ve made, your attitudes, your demeanor, how to treat other people, all that jazz.

But women are basically incapable of that, and so, we get shaming articles, or articles telling us how there are no men ‘worthy’ of you used-up, post-Wall, entitlement-mentality twats.

I will be spending my future hunting, fishing, buying and shooting firearms, hanging out with my friends, drinking beer and playing pool on the weekends, playing video games, doing whatever I damn well please WHENEVER I damn well please, and banging whatever female strikes my fancy. You know, enjoying life.

And you, my dears, get to look forward to a future of sitting in your fancy apartment, surrounded by $250K worth of shoes, eating ice cream directly from the carton, watching Lifetime, and crying to your 5 cats about how lonely you are.

Bed. Made. Lie.

And shut the HELL up, you vile, tiresome cunts.